


Farewell, fighter boy

by oswaldwaddlepot



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Other, peaky blinders series 5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 23:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswaldwaddlepot/pseuds/oswaldwaddlepot
Summary: one-shot of what happened after Bonnie died





	Farewell, fighter boy

Aberama Gold laid frozen on the ground. The bullet wound pained him but it was a different pain that hurt him the most. The pain of losing a child. With an anguished scream, he got up and staggered towards Bonnie.

"Bonnie." Aberama kept calling out hoping his son would answer, that this was a nightmare he'd wake up from.

Silence.

Aberama got to Bonnie, grabbed his leg and cried. "I'm sorry" he whispered over and over. He pulled out a small knife from the inside of his boot and slowly started to cut the ties. He held onto Bonnie with his hurt arm, ignoring the pain. Bonnie was the only thing that matter to him. After freeing his son from the cross, he gently laid him down and wept as he gazed over his son's lifeless body. He sat down and cradle Bonnie's head close to his chest.

"I got you, son. I got you." he cried. He looked upon his son's face, blood everywhere. The sight broke him.

"It should've been me. I should've gotten to you." he stroked the top of Bonnie's head, still rocking him.

Aberama Gold is a feared man by many. His violent tactics are known within the Romani. Every man that faced him ended up dead or in his favor. Such as a man, he had few enemies but all that has changed. 

"Remember the poem I use to read to you when you were a boy?" Aberama straightened up and cleared his throat. He placed an arm over Bonnie's still chest and the other stroking his hair.

"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you-" his voice becoming raspy and sorrowful, ".. if you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose and start again at your beginnings.. if you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that's in it, and which is more - you'll be a man, my son!"

Aberama sat there in silence, thinking about all the promises he made to his son, how he was there cheering on his son during his matches.

"I failed you, my boy." he cried out. He continued to sit there in silence, stroking Bonnie's hair. After awhile he knew he had to get up but he couldn't leave his boy. He winced as he gently moved Bonnie to get up. As he stood up, he saw the paper that was shoved in his pocket. He had forgotten about it. He took it out and read it. Anger swept over his face as he put the paper in his pocket.

It was pitch dark and the fire was almost out. Aberama, through the pain, picked Bonnie up and placed him on his bed inside the caravan. He grabbed the blankets to cover him up. He looked upon his son's face once more. The blood had dried up and his face was turning to a pale blue color. He leaned over to kiss his son's forehead. "I love you, Bonnie. Please forgive me." he whispered.

As he finished covering Bonnie up, he looked over at the small table beside the bed. There, a picture of a woman sat. Aberama picked up and placed his fingers over the woman's face.

"I know you've been watching over me. I know you saw what happened to our boy. I'm so sorry, my love. I couldn't protect him just like I couldn't protect you." he sobbed, "if I could trade my life for his, I would gladly do it. I know I failed him as a father in this life" he stopped and placed the picture on top of Bonnie. As he started to walk away, he whispered calmly "I will strike down every man responsible. I promise you, Bonnie."

As he started to walk away, he glanced back at the cross, reliving what had happened. His world is shattered and a darker place now. He wants revenge. He wants blood.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is called "If" by Joseph Rudyard Kipling.


End file.
